


Score

by Cascaper



Series: In Kind [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, good-natured competition, may the best throwing arm win, snowy snowy fun, the fluff continues!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 19:38:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16919130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cascaper/pseuds/Cascaper
Summary: A snowball fight? Not thinking big enough. In other words, the first Dragonhead Snowball Tournament is on!





	Score

“All right everyone!” Thosinund called from the top of the western wall. “Are we ready, aye or nay?”

“AYE!” roared the soldiers below. With few exceptions, every able-bodied man and woman of Camp Dragonhead was spread out over the field. In teams of four, behind fresh-packed walls and with ready stockpiles, they had come to make their mark and take their stand…

“Then at Ninne’s count of three we start!” and Thosinund vanished from view, only to come running out the gate and join her chosen three.

Up on the wall, Ninne raised a banner high. “Three… two… one!” She brought it down- and the very first Dragonhead Snowball Tournament was on.

The air was almost instantly thick with flying projectiles from every direction. Arms and heads popped from behind their shelters, threw, ducked, loaded and fired again. No catapults, no magic, nothing but sheer strength of arm was allowed: this was to be an endurance contest. The winner would be the last team standing.

Of course some teams had advantages—being able to throw bigger snowballs, for instance, with more devastating effect. And a maddening blur of coppery braids as the thrower vanished into safety. To her credit, Thosi tried not to use this move too often, but it  _was_  almost too much fun to resist. And with every successful strike that chipped away part of another team’s barrier, her own teammates seemed to gain fresh strength.

Until at last, there were only two teams left on the field: Thosinund’s… and Haurchefant’s.

Break was called, no more than a quarter bell, to replenish the stockpiles (mostly out of the wrecked remains of the other snow forts) and take hasty refreshment- a swallow of cocoa here, a mouthful of knight’s bread there.

“My lord, far be it from us to spoil your fun,” Corentiaux spoke over the noise of packing and stacking snowballs, “but we do not think you actually mean to win this contest.”

“Nonsense,” Haurchefant gaily replied. “I intend to fight with all honor. To the end, whatever it may be.”

Yaelle raised a brow. “Begging your pardon, my lord, this whole affair begins to feel rather a farce.”

This only earned a thrown-back head and hands raised to the heavens. “Ah, but what a delightful farce! Still… we have gotten this far. Come, friends, do not give up now! Or would you have it said that the knights of Dragonhead did not do their utmost to win even this good-natured contest?”

“I think  _you_  would have it said that the combined might of the entire camp was no match for a certain adventurer…” 

Oh, the gleeful cackling that rose from their snow-shelter; it carried across the whole field. Some of the chocobos took fright, in fact, and had to be soothed.

“Time!” Ninne yelled.

“Hold,” Thosinund’s voice rang out. “Shall we say last one standing wins for the whole of their team?” 

“If the other team agrees.” 

“My lord, this is madness!” Yaelle hissed, but she knew it was futile.

“Agreed!” Haurchefant beamed. 

“Time!”

* * *

Of course they were the last two standing. Not even the forts could survive such onslaught; the pair had long since been reduced to using the terrain as cover.

“Yield, man! The sun’s almost setting!” Thosinund bellowed from behind her tree. “Nobody can say you didn’t fight well, but there is such a thing as enough!” 

“Never, my lady!” came the answering cry from her competitor’s snowbank. Just as it had the last half dozen times. 

“Then come out in the open and face me. One throw to settle all.” 

A wagging finger rose over the bank. “No tricks now…”

“Nay, only snow.” 

There they stood, weapons (as it were) in hand, under a sky starting to flood with pink and gold. 

“Count of three…” 

(Cries from the sidelines. “You can do it, my lord!” “Please, mistress, end this!”)

“One-” (knee bent.) “Two-” (hands readied…) “Three!”

For a relatively soft substance, the snow did make quite the resounding  _crunch_  as it hit Haurchefant square in the chest. He wavered once, then again, and toppled almost gracefully backward to the ground. 

“Victory to Team Thosinund!” 

Amid the grateful shouts and the general clamor to get out of the cold for dinner, the victor bent to help her love to his feet.

“Is your honor satisfied, then?” she smirked.

“Perfectly.” 

“Then ready yourself, for tonight-” she stole a kiss on the tip of his ear- “we settle a different score.” 


End file.
